


Respawn Roulette

by StaggeringSkies



Series: Technoblade is Glitched and Fucking Dies [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, L30 Enchantments Discord, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26677099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaggeringSkies/pseuds/StaggeringSkies
Summary: Technoblade is a glitched person. This means respawn isn't guaranteed for him, and when he does respawn, there's no guarantee that his injuries will heal completely or at all. Glitched people are often blamed for magic-related incidents, whether or not they're actually involved, and are often ostracized for being glitched. Most glitched people either remain isolated or hide among the healthy, trying their best to fit in. Despite knowing this, he still tries uphold his reputation and acts fearless in the face of death. All it takes is one slip-up for everything to come crashing down.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit
Series: Technoblade is Glitched and Fucking Dies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941121
Comments: 22
Kudos: 336





	Respawn Roulette

**Author's Note:**

> This fic couldn't have been completed without the help of the lovely individuals on the L30 Enchantments discord! If you're interested in joining, here's the invite: https://discord.gg/X5Eum2  
> We're always eager to have more people to talk to about fanfic, fanart, and everyday subjects all the same!

Minecraft Championships were typically smooth and well-run, considering they were hosted by the Noxcrew and practically guaranteed to keep up a certain amount of quality. Each championship never failed to impress, but it was only inevitable that some issue would arise here or there. Technoblade only wished he’d prepared a little better, but he'd already gone through six relatively straightforward championships, so how could he have known? Besides, he had been left unsuspecting of any possible issue since nothing had seemed too out-of-the-ordinary until Battle Box started. Even then, there was only a hint of lag in the form of mild dizziness by the end of the first round. It wasn’t until the second round that Techno realized the lag was only getting worse. He’d always been a little more prone to the more severe effects of lag, so it was surprising to see his teammates stumbling just as bad as he was. By the third round, they all knew something a little more serious was going wrong. While his teammates were managing a little better than he was, every moment felt like a still picture to him rather than a continuous line of vision. Stomach rolling and head spinning, he felt the curl of an internal oh shit moment spike his anxiety. Wrapped up in trying to keep himself on his own two feet, he hadn’t even noticed the TNT set to explode. His attempt to scramble backwards was a late, last-minute response that ultimately didn’t help him because the blast still sent him plunging into the trenches of the arena.

Respawn triggered. He felt weightless, heart hammering in his chest for the brief moment he was teleported. As usual, he appeared in the viewing box right above his usual spawn point for Battle Box, but the sheer pain that shot through his body made him collapse the moment he appeared. The fear of being caught in an explosion and not knowing if respawn would keep him in one piece quickly overtook every thought of his. He bit back a rough scream, remembering feeling the agony of burnt and scattered flesh, torn and hanging from his body like a worn doll. He squeezed his eyes shut, terrified of seeing the fatal damage done to his body.

_The respawn didn’t work, I’m going to die in a small room alone. I can’t die. I wasn’t careful enough. I’m going to bleed out—_

Phil must’ve died soon after him because he suddenly found the man gripping his shoulders and trying to comfort him. Techno realized he wasn’t breathing right, which didn’t help the panicky feeling consuming his thoughts. He opened his eyes and stared at Phil’s worried face examining him. Phil’s near-black wings fluttered, then stretched around them as if to make him feel more secure, but it didn’t work too well.

_He knows, he saw it happen, he knows, he’ll tell everyone, I can’t let him tell everyone that I’m—_

“Breathe, Techno. In for three seconds, out for five,” Phil murmured, acting as if he hadn’t just seen Techno’s mangled body.

“You—You saw—I-I—” he couldn’t get a word out because his mind was racing.

Thoughts kept pushing to the forefront of his mind faster than he could articulate them. Being glitched was stressful—just another reason for Techno to worry. It’s why he feared for his life every time the opportunity to respawn appeared. For the Glitched, respawn was a matter of the right conditions and pure luck. Even worse, no one really knew what it was like to be glitched. He’d heard it all; the Glitched are ticking time-bombs, their condition is contagious, they leech life from _normal_ players, and so many more lies. If he’d even revealed that he was a glitch, he’d almost certainly have been banned from the championships and most, if not all, of the tournaments he’d ever competed in. How could he hope to hide it now?

“Breathe,” Phil reminded him gently, so he did.

_He knows._

1, 2, 3…

_I’ll be lonely again._

5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

_Am I dying?_

1, 2, 3…

_Is he just pitying me?_

5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

“Please don’t tell anyone.” Phil’s eyebrows furrowed, then his lips quirked into a hesitant smile.

“That… you died in Battle Box? Techno, people joke, but no one is really going to judge you for dying in a minigame. It happens. _I_ just died,” Phil lightly laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

First, confusion swirled in his foggy mind. Then, he slowly realized that he wasn’t torn apart. Not even a speck of blood was visible, though his mind still supplied the stench of death for him. His body shook like a leaf from equal parts relief and fear. It was all just a bad memory—he had respawned just fine. Some worrying part of him kept reminding him that respawn hadn’t worked as fast as it should’ve to heal him.

“The next round’s about to start,” Phil told him, which only made his heart pound faster.

At least Phil knew him enough to understand that that wasn’t what Techno wanted to hear. Phil automatically connected his communicator to the main communication channel where everyone, players and admins included, could hear him.

“Uh, hey, could we pause? There’s too much lag, and my team’s feeling really sick.” He greatly appreciated not being exposed individually.

This was what he liked most about these championships—being teamed with his friends, Phil and Wilbur being brothers to him, made everything so much smoother.

“Yeah, it’s getting harder to play,” Fruitberries’ voice chimed in.

A chorus of agreement sounded as various teams tuned in to speak. Still, the admins weren’t fast enough, and they were teleported back down to their stations for the next round. Techno could see the countdown to pick a kit, but he couldn’t move. His entire body felt rooted in place, breath caught in his throat, blood rushing in his ears. Fortunately, the round’s countdown stopped just two seconds from starting.

_I need to calm down. Just breathe._

1, 2, 3…

_It’s all okay. I’m in one piece. Everyone is here and safe and alive._

5, 4, 3—

TNT exploded on the other side of the arena.

_It’s not here, we’re safe, there’s no TNT—_

This time, TNT exploded inside their station. Techno saw Seapeekay’s body hit the glass before poofing away to respawn. Wilbur still held spare TNT, a nervous grin spread across his face while Phil laughed.

“ _Why did you do that?_ ” Phil questioned, still laughing from the surprise.

It wasn’t funny. Not at all. He was too close to it. Wilbur could kill them all. He could get stuck in a death loop again, constantly dying over and over _and over and over_. Techno always seemed neutral, his voice monotone, and his gaze unfaltering. Even then, feeling as if he would die any second, his body trembling, he didn’t look nearly as terrified as he felt. In fact, he almost appeared unbothered as he raised a shaking hand to his communicator and accessed the main communication channel.

“We should probably go back to the hub until the lag is fixed.”

If his voice cracked a little, no one mentioned it. Within moments, others were agreeing, and the request was accepted. They were all teleported back to the hub—a place that couldn’t be broadcasted during their breaks. It was vast enough for him to isolate himself until he calmed down, but that didn’t kill the loneliness. Phil, an older brother to him, had tried to comfort him, but he didn’t know about his glitching. None of them knew—not even Tommy, no matter how much the kid snooped around. He’d be damned if he let anyone catch him like this, _especially_ if the other competitors picked up on it.

Not even a minute later, he decidedly hid himself in a small bar with a few old brewing stands and spare brewing supplies. The mixed voices of the other players laughing, talking, and shouting were much quieter in there, so Techno was finally given the chance to recuperate. His heartbeat had slowed, hands still clutching his sides where he’d felt his mangled flesh hanging off of his corpse. His communicator kept lighting up with chat notifications and voice chat requests, but he refused to respond to them. Sure, it was a championship, but he just wanted to have fun. This wasn’t fun anymore. It was a nightmare that threatened to reveal all of his secrets. Now, he couldn’t even bear to face the people he considered family.

...it was still rude to ignore them.

He glanced at his communicator, wincing as he scrolled through the increasingly worried messages from his team.

“ _There_ you are!”

Tommy’s boisterous voice startled him. The kid was leaning on the bar counter, looking far too pleased with himself for finding Techno. Not wanting more people to crowd around him, Techno decidedly pulled Tommy into the bar and shushed him.

“What’re you doin’ down here, Techno?” Tommy asked, just a little quieter than before.

“Scheming,” he lied with a casual shrug.

Tommy’s entire demeanor lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Against who? Because _my_ team will win regardless! You think you can outsmart the alpha male, TommyInnit, _bitch_? Because you can’t!” he declared, his voice getting increasingly louder as he continued to ramble.

Techno sighed, knowing he shouldn’t have let Tommy in. Strangely, the arrogance exuding from Tommy was somewhat comforting. This kid looked up to him, and he always tried to bring himself up to be someone that could keep Techno’s attention. It was endearing. Annoying, yes, but in a little-brother way. Would Tommy even want to be thought of as a brother to someone like him? He’d already allowed himself to get attached to too many people that thought he could respawn just fine. One day, he’d die for good, and his poor family of Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy would have to cope with his final death.

_I respawned, I’m in one piece, I’m completely fine._

Tommy let out his signature, high-pitched laugh that made his ears ring, but that only made Techno pleasantly smile. Well, he knew he was smiling, but to Tommy, it looked like a sneer. That didn’t stop the kid from trying to flaunt his “amazing PVP skills” and make himself out to be a literal god. He just wasn’t all too great at expressing his emotions or looking particularly friendly.

_I’ll be fine. I have to be fine._

“Alright, nerd. You wanna hear my master plan?” Techno teased, ruffling Tommy’s hair.

Of course, Tommy readily agreed, clearly energized at the opportunity to get any advice from _Technoblade_ of all people.

“Preparation is key. You can’t go barreling into a fight without a plan,” he told Tommy, faintly amused by the intensely concentrated look on Tommy’s face.

“‘Course not!” Tommy chirped in agreement.

“You can’t always rely on a respawn to help your teammates out, especially if you don’t know their spawn points. What else can you do to help them?”

“Kill ‘em! They should’ve been prepared already!”

Techno snorted, adding, “Good enthusiasm, but no. We’re gonna make some potions.”

Tommy whooped excitedly, beginning to ramble about how great he was at making potions. That ramble fluctuated from admitting he’d never actually brewed a potion by himself to declaring how much better he was than Tubbo at making potions. Techno pretended to be annoyed, not even attempting to respond, but he enjoyed the company in that moment. The bar they were in seemed to have very limited supplies. The ingredients that were available looked like they’d been sitting there for months, but it was better than nothing. Luckily, the brewing stands still seemed to have enough blaze powder for a basic potion, but not much else.

“ _Jeez._ Does no one fuckin’ clean around here?” Tommy muttered, sneezing as dust filled the room just from opening the old chests.

Techno shrugged and focused on the old glistering melons at the bottom of the chest. It was hidden underneath a disgusting amount of nether wart and surrounded by rotten melons and carrots. There was an entire single chest filled to the brim with dirty glass bottles, but Techno wasn’t in the position to complain. Nothing in the bar seemed to be particularly high-quality, which really made him wonder if there was another back-up option he’d be able to use last minute. He had a bad feeling in his gut that he couldn’t quite shake, but there were too many factors keeping him in the competition.

The chance of victory. Not wanting to disappoint his makeshift-family. The need to keep up his reputation as fearless. Wanting to be someone Tommy could continue to look up to and depend on. He couldn’t forget all of that.

“Tommy, go fill up three of these bottles with water. Preferably salt water.”

Tommy fixed him with an odd look.

“Why salt water? Phil says salt water is bad to drink because it just makes you feel thirstier. I’m sure _Tubbo_ would make that mistake, but I know better,” Tommy rambled.

To that, Techno just said, “Salt reacts better.”

Fortunately, that seemed to satisfy Tommy enough because the kid snagged the bottles and ran off, reassuring him that he’d find the _best_ water available (as long as it wasn’t to cheat, which wouldn’t be cool). He couldn’t help but feel skittish, yet he also couldn’t find the strength to leave the bar. More than anything, he wanted to return to his little island in Hypixel’s realm where he knew he’d be safe. Safe, but isolated. Alone. By himself for the next eternity. Phil would be so disappointed in him. They all would. How could he bear to look any of them in the eyes when he constantly went away and hardly talked to them? When would they ditch him? It was just a matter of time, he figured. That’s all it was. Just time passing. All he was trying to do was avoid the inevitable—

“Salt water, as you requested, O great Technoblade!” Tommy’s overly-grand words startled him out of his thoughts.

Techno gave him a thumbs-up in return, not trusting his voice. Even if the bottles or the water were dirty, it’d be purified soon enough. With the potion bottles in place on the brewing stand, Techno began filtering nether wart into the potion bottles. He didn’t know if he had enough time to complete the potion—that was enough to make anxiety creep through him and ruin his mood further.

“This is fuckin’ disgusting,” Tommy exclaimed, shutting the chest of ingredients that Techno had left open.

Glistering melons _did_ tend to have an unpleasant smell that was only made worse when they began to rot.

“Do you know what glistering melons are used for?” Techno asked him.

“Poison? Harming? Instantaneous _death_ to all those who oppose us? _Oh oh_ , is it for that one potion that makes you jump high?” Tommy immediately answered.

“Nope. Instant healing.”

“Oh. Right, I knew that. I’m sure _Tubbo_ doesn’t—” and Tommy continued to talk.

He was only half-listening while he concentrated on brewing. Techno knew that the quality of the ingredients and the oversaturation of magic in the area would greatly alter the effectiveness of the potion. The only thing he could do was tweak the time he brewed the potions and hope for the best. He hadn’t been one of Hypixel’s top alchemists for nothing—he’d been studying alchemy for years in case something like this happened. If the reek of rotting glistering melons was anything to go by, Techno wondered if his skill even mattered when the ingredients were already low-quality. Taking a deep breath in, he wondered if he’d even get the chance to _return_ to Hypixel’s realm.

He grimaced at that.

_I should go. I’m sure Phil and Wilbur won’t mind. This just isn’t safe anym—shit!_

Techno sucked in a deep breath, clutching his hand to his chest. He’d been so lost in thought that he’d accidentally burned his hand on the core blaze rod of the brewing stand. The sting wasn’t as painful as it was a reminder to him that he wasn’t invincible. Just one bad respawn could end him.

“You’re acting really weird, Techno,” Tommy called him out.

The kid was observant. Rambunctious and seemingly self-centered, yes, but he’d never been unaware of himself and others. He was just unsure.

“Not really.”

He got a long stare in response, but Tommy didn’t say anything else. The rotting glistering melon nearly fell apart in his hands, which he chose to ignore for his mental health. He quickly began filtering it into the potion bottles, hoping the process would fly by, but it didn’t. Everyone held him to such high expectations, and he felt like he was crumbling under the pressure. Would Tommy even want to talk to him if he knew that his beloved idol, an older brother to him, was glitched? Would anyone be there for him? He had to be strong consistently. Quick. Clever. Witty. Not just good or great, but _perfect._ How could he live up to that? Why, even with his clammy hands shaking and his throat tight, was he choosing to stay in the midst of danger? It was stupid— _he_ was stupid—but he’d just be taunted for leaving in the middle of a championship. No one would ever let him live it down. It would just be another round of isolation—

“Are the potions gonna work when all of the ingredients smell like shit?” Tommy curiously asked.

Techno swallowed the lump in his throat and answered, “They could.”

Sensing that that wasn’t enough of an answer (Tommy had given him that pointed, displeased stare), he took a moment to collect his thoughts. It was a pleasant distraction from the panic that had reared its ugly head.

“What makes potions so special is magic, Tommy—”

“—I know _that_. I’m not a _toddler_ , Techno.” Techno raised an eyebrow at him. Tommy grumbled under his breath, then finally gave him the silence he needed to speak.

“Magic is what makes these ingredients react. If there wasn’t any magic, none of this would work because the effectiveness of the potion depends on the quality of ingredients _and_ the amount of magic available. Do you think there’s enough magic right now?”

Tommy paused to think about his answer, ultimately saying, “Maybe? There’s a lot of lag, but I’m not sure if that’s good magic.”

“Magic isn’t inherently good or bad. Lag is just a high concentration of magic in one spot that has nowhere to go. If it’s not being used, it just… weighs down everything else. Does that make sense?”

“...no.”

Techno let out a low hum in thought. He was a great alchemist, sure, but he wasn’t exactly some intelligent scientist with books on magic theory. All he knew was how to manipulate magic in a way that worked for him and avoid places with extreme concentrations of magic. It was just something that he understood without explanation; he thought that Tommy would have a similar sense for it, too.

Techno mulled over his words again and said, “Because of the lag, there’s a lot of magic available. It could be enough to make an effective potion even if the glistering melons aren’t exactly high-quality. That, or it could cancel out the reaction we’re looking for and make what is essentially just rotten melon-flavored water.”

“How do you know what it’s gonna do?” Tommy questioned with that determined look in his eyes.

“I don’t. It’s just a guess—could go either way.”

Tommy opened his mouth—whether that was to ask yet another question or complain, he didn’t know—but his words were swiftly cut off by the sounds of their communicators crackling to life in sync.

“Attention,” Noxite’s voice crackled through their communicators, “we’ve identified and patched up the main issues for the moment. Battle Box will resume in five minutes.”

“ _Yes!_ I thought they were gonna skip altogether, but this is great! Wait, do you think they’re gonna reset all of our points?” Tommy energetically began talking yet again, his previously serious demeanor gone in a second.

Five minutes wasn’t enough time for the potions to finish, and if he left, there was no guarantee the potions would actually work. Why hadn’t he thought to bring potions in from Hypixel’s Realm?

“—because I’m _clearly_ better, it was just the lag messing with my head. Tubbo said he’s watching the tournament, so I _have_ to show him how cool the event is—” of course, Tommy was used to Techno being fairly unresponsive in conversations, but the latter genuinely had no clue what had led to this conversation.

“Tommy,” Techno muttered, his voice void of emotion, every word he wanted to spill lodged in his throat.

“Yeah?”

Silence. Pure, heavy silence. Tommy fiddled with his hands under the cold, hard stare of Technoblade. It was meant to be meaningful, trusting, even, to display just how important Tommy’s idea of him was. He’d never claimed to be great with emotions. What was he supposed to say, anyways? Admit he was terrified? Talk about his oh-so tragic backstory? Dump all of his emotional baggage onto an optimistic child? At the last moment, the words he wanted to say died on his lips. There was no point in placing so much pressure on a child. Tommy had Phil, Wilbur, and Tubbo. Hell, with all the persistence he had, he’d probably tag along with Vikkstar and whoever else caught his interest until everyone knew his name. He’d eventually just… stop following him around.

It was strange that the once-annoying child he’d tried so hard to ditch had ended up growing on him.

“Techno, I’m not gonna lie. This is very uncomfortable for me.”

Right. He’d zoned out.

“Oops. Well, uh. Don’t forget to tie your shoelaces, so you don’t trip over yourself, nerd.”

Tommy’s face flushed red with a hint of defiance (“I’m not a kid! My shoes are always tied!”). That was all the time they had. Five minutes really wasn’t a lot of time.

Once more, they returned to the decision dome, just to be teleported back to their Battle Box stations. Techno felt just a little more guilt for still not responding to his team, especially when he saw the look on Phil’s face.

“See? I told you he was fine. He’s a big boy, Phil,” Wilbur smugly said.

“ _I know that_ , I just wanted to make sure,” Phil grumbled.

Techno gave them a thumbs-up, confirming that he was all good. Phil looked a lot more relieved.

“Just not a fan of lag, huh?” Seapeekay supplied, “Same here. Makes me feel like I’m gonna vomit.”

“I swear _I’ll_ vomit if they reset my points. I had seven kills! _Seven!_ ” Wilbur cried out.

His team bantered back and forth, but he was a little too distracted to keep up. They were used to him getting distracted, so they were none-the-wiser. Normally, he’d be a little more occupied coming up with last-minute plans, but now his mind wandered to the ever-present threat of TNT. Sure, Noxcrew had claimed to have fixed the problem, but Techno could still feel the traces of lag weighing down his body and making his head feel light. It wasn’t nearly as bad as before, but it still made him feel wary.

_There’s nothing to worry about. Just focus on the game, and we’ll win._

Sure enough, the next few rounds were just a little smoother. It eased his nerves, just leaving the usual performance anxiety, but that was easy to cope with when Phil and Wilbur were there for him. Even better, no one wanted to be the healer, so he eagerly took the healing potions. When Battle Box finally finished, he couldn’t deny the weight lifted from his shoulders. They had gotten more points that time around, which helped his mood. Sure, Wilbur was still sulking over his lost kills, but it ultimately didn’t damper their energy. Build Mart cheered him up, and after their plan earned them 1st place for the round, everyone was back to their usual cheer.

“We gotta vote for Rocket Spleef,” Techno announced to his team when they returned to the Decision Dome.

They’d done their fair bit of practice for the game, and they all knew that they needed to win Rocket Spleef if they wanted to make it Dodgebolt. Phil gave him a look, mouthing, “Are you sure?” Maybe Techno hadn’t concealed the source of his freakout as well as he thought—he still nodded in response to Phil. Rocket Spleef could be dangerous, but it was still a relatively innocent game. Most people didn’t have much experience with elytras and fell into the void themselves, and even if he found himself injured, he reminded himself that he had three mediocre healing potions sitting nearby a major spawn point. Besides, very little lag lingered after Battle Box, and… this event was more important. Well, not the event itself, but the experience. He cherished every moment he got to spend with his friends and newfound family, and he worked hard to make sure they didn’t regret talking to him. Settling for loneliness wasn’t an option anymore. Being a disappointment to them was worse than sustaining a little cut or two from a glitched respawn.

“Well, guess we’re getting the audience to vote for Rocket Spleef,” Seapeekay said, sending out an announcement on his communicator to vote for Rocket Spleef.

Technoblade found himself doing the same, only to realize that Hole in the Wall was far ahead in votes. Of course, a large portion of the audience was there to see Dream compete, so it only made sense they’d choose the game he wanted to play. For a brief moment, he felt the need to change his mind because HITW was far safer for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. His team was counting on him, and they’d have a far better chance of winning if they played Rocket Spleef. The all-too familiar, suffocating feeling in his chest kept growing, but he refused to think further about it, instead choosing to loudly root for Rocket Spleef. In his head, he kept mindlessly repeating that he’d be okay. He had healing potions. He wasn’t going to glitch.

The poll results kept rapidly changing, but ultimately, Hole in the Wall pulled forward last second. Techno secretly felt relieved to have the safer choice win until the system announced that Rocket Spleef had actually won. Which was fine. That’s the choice he wanted. Well, it wasn’t fine for Dream.

“Hole in the Wall won the poll,” Dream said in the main communication channel.

“No recounts,” Wilbur immediately countered, getting his team to laugh.

Any other responses that were made cut out as they were all teleported to the main spawn point above the Rocket Spleef arena. They were all grouped together now, but that didn’t stop arguing from happening. Noxite himself decidedly paused the game for the second time to assess the situation, but nothing came of it.

“The poll results changed too quickly for our system to catch it, so you’ll have to play Rocket Spleef,” Noxite announced.

Techno, just for a moment, wondered if Dream would genuinely be mad at him for picking Rocket Spleef. Ultimately, his thoughts didn't go too far.

“Hey, Techno! Still need your help here,” Phil called out to him as a reminder.

Right, he had stuff to do. Phil’s wings needed to be restrained for the sake of a fair game, so he’d be using an elytra like everyone else. Phil never liked it, but he never openly complained about it, either. The man stretched his wings out a final time before Techno began tying them flush against Phil’s back. Once that was done, he helped the other put the elytra on just in time for Techno to put his own elytra on. While Techno adjusted the elytra, Phil placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to keep playing if you don’t want to. I can tell something’s wrong,” he whispered quiet enough to keep some privacy between them.

Techno shook his head, replying, “I’m fine. Just nervous. Probably just the lag messing with me since I still feel nauseous.”

“Same here. Hopefully the lag will go away soon.”

Techno wanted to say so much more to him, but there was no time to say anything else as the game began. The floor disappeared beneath them, all of them plummeting towards the fragile, glass-and-wool rainbow. Instinct kicked in, and Techno opened up his elytra to angle himself to the safety of the edge of the rainbow. His landing was a little clumsy, and he stumbled away from the sound of small, muted explosions and shattering glass.

_Where to go?_

How many people are out so far? He glanced at his communicator, but he didn’t catch anything as a stray explosion shot him off the edge. Shattered glass had embedded itself in his left side—mostly his left shoulder and the side of his face—but it was just a common, minor injury. For a moment, his elytra wouldn’t open, but he managed to force it open quick enough to glide to another spot on the rainbow. Another clumsy landing into the glass made it shatter from the hit, and the force of the collision knocked the air out of his lungs. More glass pricked its way into his skin, causing thin trails of blood to trickle down his exposed face and palms. He knew he’d be fine because he’d dealt with far worse injuries throughout a round. Besides, his so-so performance had already gotten him to the top half of surviving players for the round. Peeking up from his position, he could still see the ever-present figure of Pete still somehow at the top of the rainbow. It wasn’t too surprising since Pete had kept up the same performance since the moment he’d joined MCC. Techno just needed to practice a little more and—

_Boom!_

—focus a little more. He was falling, the burning sensation and ringing of a too-close explosion making him fumble before he finally opened his elytra. Still, he continued to glide far lower, threatening to touch the void at any second. He decidedly ignored the way his chest and shoulder ached and the intense burning sensation running along his side in order to focus on saving himself. In the end, he survived no more than another fifteen seconds before he dipped into the depths of the void. Sighing from his early defeat, he idly waited for respawn to trigger, so he could prepare for the next round. It only took another few seconds for him to realize that respawn wasn’t working.

He knew he’d passed the limit of safety when the air kept getting thinner. This time, all-too unlike all the others, a new kind of pure fear cemented itself in his soul. Soon enough, he couldn’t even get a full breath of air in. His chest felt tight, and it kept getting tighter with each failed inhale until he was scratching at his throat. Of course, it was just an instinct that didn’t change the fact that he was suffocating. Panic only worsened the feeling and worked to make him all-too aware of his burnt flesh, the stinging glass embedded in his skin, and the throb of either fractured bones or torn-up flesh. He felt faint and weak and scared, wondering if this was fate telling him he’d fucked up for the last time.

His answer came in the form of a face-full of sand. The hub seemed so peaceful compared to the terror he’d experienced just moments before, but that peace was interrupted by his painful, heaving coughs as he caught his breath. His face stung as blood ran down his cheeks, staining his lips with the metallic tang. With a closer look, Techno noticed that whole pieces of his jacket and shirt were singed or burnt away. Blood dribbled slowly from his side onto the sand, thick and telling of the worst to come. Bile rose in his throat as his worst fears became reality once more. If anyone was talking, he wouldn’t be able to hear it over the intense ringing in his ears. Curled up on his side in the sand, he blearily blinked, only to squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth to cope. The pain crept up on him, getting worse and worse than he’d felt in a long time. For a second too long, he couldn’t even breathe, and when he finally could, his chest ached and burned. Suddenly, the bar with his three much-needed, life-saving potions, seemed too far for someone who couldn’t even pick himself up. Thinking was difficult, but his ever-persistent thoughts refused to slow.

_I have to stay in the hub. No one can see me like this. I need to stop this._

It would be _so easy_ to come up with a solution if he wasn’t currently about to vomit from how much his head was spinning, despite not moving. Sand kept digging into his beyond-damaged side, adding to the mounting agony. Did that count as stopping the bleeding? Could sand put enough pressure on such a major wound to at least keep him alive for another few minutes?

_I’m bleeding._

Over and over he thought that as if it were new and surprising. Not a single thought could comprehend that he already knew he was bleeding, yet it was all he could come up with. Slowly and oh-so careful not to jostle anything, he tried his best to push himself into a position where he could sit up. Mind-numbing pain flared up, but this definitely wasn’t his first run-in with death, and it wouldn’t be his last. He’d been beaten to a pulp before, blown up, and stabbed hundreds of times, so this should’ve been a walk in the park. All he had to do was ignore everything clearly going wrong. If he looked away, he wouldn’t be able to see the bloodied mess of flesh and bone along his side. If he distracted himself, he wouldn’t have to think about the pain he felt just from trying to breathe. If he could just ignore the shards of glass still digging into his skin, the way his skin burned like he’d touched fire, and the metallic taste in his mouth, then he’d be fine.

The sand under his clothes wasn’t all that bad compared to everything else now that he thought about it. The stars blended into the blurry sky above Techno as he finally gathered enough clear thoughts to shut his communicator off. Somehow, he wasn’t too surprised that he’d ended up in this situation. Maybe it was karma. A part of him still felt lucky to have seen his family of sorts one last time. When was the last time he’d sat down and talked with Phil? It’d been too long since he’d heard Wilbur brainstorming lyrics for a new song or watched Tommy try to outsmart him. If given the chance, he’d leave this place in a heartbeat and return to the little spruce-and-cobblestone house Phil had claimed as theirs, but he wasn’t that lucky.

Was it even lucky to be found in such a state? It could’ve been his brain conjuring the sounds of others just to reassure him that he wouldn’t be alone like this, but he could just barely hear shouting above the ringing in his ears. With his thoughts just as scattered as his blood and bones, he could hardly process everything happening. Someone was looking at him, but it was difficult to make out anything except pale skin and blond hair. Their warm hands jostled his body as if trying to wake him up, to which he nearly blacked out from the agony it caused. His lungs strained with effort as he coughed until it felt like every organ in his body had given up. It didn’t go unnoticed how the taste of blood reappeared stronger on his tongue with every harsh cough. For a moment, he was once again left by himself, then that same person was pressing a potion bottle to his lips. The liquid tasted sour and rotten, and ultimately, he ended up coughing harder. It was a horrible potion—one he vaguely remembered he'd made himself just an hour or so earlier. Apparently, it didn’t work.

So that was that.

Even faced with the harsh truth, his mind was made up; loneliness was worse than death. Here, barely able to breath or move or _think_ , feeling a hand cradle his own was enough. It took another long, painful moment to try and focus on the person who would be with him. Guilt welled up in his gut when he finally realized it was Tommy who was crying over him and clearly trying to tell him _something_ that he just couldn’t hear.

“I—” Techno knew he’d spoken, but he couldn’t even hear himself over the sharp ring, “—I can’t _hear_.”

Tommy bit his lip, looking torn between frustration and sorrow, before he raised his communicator for Techno to see. He may have looked over the screen dozens of times, momentarily distracted by another surge of pain that set his nerves aflame, until his mind finally registered that Tommy had pulled up the main communication channel. It looked like Wilbur, Dream, Phil, and Scott were talking at the same time if the light around their names was anything to go by. Now, with each breath, a sharp pain shot through his chest; to accommodate it, he began taking shorter, quicker breaths.

“Can—can they—” a sudden coughing fit left him gasping for breath and curling up on himself.

Tommy looked like he was talking a lot above him, but Techno couldn’t make sense of any of it. That dizzy, spinning feeling returned full force, and he was once again reminded of the broken state of his body. How many times had he just stared off into the distance, suddenly overwhelmed by it all? How much time had he wasted just trying to cope with the situation? It shouldn’t have such a surprising event because he’d known something like this would happen eventually. Tommy only seemed to panic more over time, his mouth moving a mile a minute; he even tried to press the fabric of Techno’s jacket against his bloody side. All it resulted in was Techno letting out a shaky breath in an attempt to not scream.

_I need Hypixel, he owes me a favor. He owes me, he’s gotta help me, he promised he’d help me—_

He didn’t know if he was saying it out loud or just thinking it, but the words felt just as jumbled and incoherent as every other sense. Just as quickly as he’d thought to try and communicate Hypixel’s importance, the thought was gone, and an eerie sense of calm settled in his soul. It must’ve been some core instinct rooted deep that made him realize that these would be his last moments, so he tried his best to cherish it.

He blinked and Phil was over him, his near-black wings shielding them from the outside world. Another blink and Wilbur’s tears were dripping from his chin onto Techno’s face, but his face remained stoic unlike the harsh display of emotions flickering across Tommy’s face. One last blink and he carefully took in the faces of his brothers for the final time, trying his best to give them a soft smile that would somehow spill every bit of love he had for them in one moment. Finally shutting his eyes, he focused on the warmth of his brothers being there with him. There was still so much he hadn’t done or said, but it no longer mattered. The arguments of the past, the fear of loneliness, the anger and pain and sadness and every other feeling that had picked at his soul meant nothing when they were there with him. It was definitely an improvement from the isolated, violent death he’d long ago accepted to be his fate. If nothing else, he was glad to know he’d at least made a good enough impression to have a family to call his own as he took his last breath.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [He Didn't Know](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26677261) by [ZozzleberryFin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZozzleberryFin/pseuds/ZozzleberryFin)




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